


Alone

by Dreamchester67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Drunk Sex, F/M, Mild Smut, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:36:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamchester67/pseuds/Dreamchester67
Summary: The reader and Sam both have just lost the most important person in both of their lives: Dean. Now that they are alone in the bunker together, what may come about between them? How will the rest of Team Free Will react, and what happens if Dean once again comes back unexpectedly? Who will the reader choose?





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> It took me a little over a day to write this part in a short series that I want to continue with. I really hope that y'all like it :) from here on out it's gonna get real angsty reeaaalll fast. Feedback would be amazing! <3  
> If you want, check out my tumblr as well (@dreamchester67)  
> Thanks loves, xoxo

“You don’t have to be alone, you know.”

The amount of times that you had heard that sentence through your life was almost uncanny. You heard it when your mother passed, then again when your father passed, then again when Bobby passed. You didn’t want to hear it anymore, especially now. You had just lost Dean on a messy wendigo hunt, and Sam wouldn’t get off of your case about venting your emotions. Yanno, something ‘healthy people’ do.

“Y/n, are you even listening to me?” Looking back over at Sam, you rub your bloodshot eyes and mutter a sorry. Why your eyes burned so much, you were unsure. Whether it was from crying, the smoke from the pyre, or the lack of sleep, it really didn’t matter. What mattered was the date you had with a bottle of Jack for the rest of the night back in your room. Realizing that Sam had been talking the entire time, you tune back in right as he says, “Dean wouldn’t want this for you.” Feeling your anger boil over, you stand up and face the younger Winchester with fire in your veins.

“Well Dean isn’t here anymore, is he?!”

Pausing at your words, Sam hangs his head in shame. Y/n, I didn’t mean it like that. I just-” as Sam takes in a deep breath, you realize the state of mind he has to be in at the moment; bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair, bloodied clothing, and alcohol laced breath all served to the point that you were just coming to understand: the man just lost his older brother. The man who raised him, who practically never left his side through the entirety of his life, was gone and not coming back.

“Oh, Sammy.” Walking over to where Sam was sitting, you leaned over and pulled his head to your stomach, him wrapping his arms around your waist. Both of you stayed there for what seemed to be an eternity, cradling each other, mourning the loss of someone you both loved dearly.

“He’s not coming back this time.”

“I know, Sammy.”

Pulling out of the embrace with a sigh, Sam looked up at you impossibly darker bloodshot eyes. With a defeated sigh, he stood and carried his bottle of whiskey into his room, closing the door behind him. This was going to be a long healing process.

It had been an entire week since you had lost Dean, and it wasn’t getting any easier. Cas popped in from time to time to check on you two, but it was mostly a ghost town within the bunker. You and Sam were the  only ones there, and stayed within your respective rooms. You wanted today to be different, though. If you were going to mourn, then you wanted to do it together. Heading over to Sam’s room with a bottle of Jack, yo raped your knuckles on the door before poking your head in the room, smiling when Sam noticed you from his bed. “Got room for one more, big guy?”

Three hours later, here you were getting shit faced drunk with Sam in the library of the bunker, sharing your favorite stories you two had of Dean.

“Do you remember when Dean had the ghost sickness? The cat jumped out at him and he went nearly three feet in the air,” laughing at your past memories of your late boyfriend seemed to ease the pain for both of you, and this was the most you had smiled since even before Deans passing took place. Taking another swig of your drink, you took notice as to just how Sam’s hair fell around his neck, his now rosy cheeks, and the way he licked his lips after each drink…

_ Stop it, Y/n. Just the alcohol talking.  _ Shaking your head at yourself, you tuned back into the story Sam was telling about Dean as a child. Something about how he got his first concussion from riding on the handlebars of a kids bike. Truth was, you began to pay more attention to how Sam’s Adams apple bobbed as he took drinks, and the way his lips wrapped around the glass each…

“Y/n?”

Snapping out of your daze, you look at Sam and shake your head. “Sorry, alcohol must be getting to me. What were you saying?” His hazel eyes searched yours for a split second longer than what was necessary before he decided to continue. Clearing his throat, he began again. “I was just saying I was always jealous of your guys' relationship,” he admitted. “Don’t get me wrong, I was happy for him, but there was always something that bothered me.”

Taking in what he has said, you tried to wrap your head around the confession before formulating a reply. “Maybe because you’ve always wanted the domestic lifestyle,” you suggested, searching his face for any clues as to if he agreed with your thought process or not.

“Maybe. But I always wanted that, the feeling only increased when you two started seeing each other.” Sam stared straight into his whiskey, which he was now swirling around. While the confession came across as genuine, it was clear that he felt guilty, as if Dean was still around to hear what he had just told you. Maybe it was Sam’s sudden bashfulness, or the alcohol, maybe even both, but something compelled you to stand and make your way to where Sam was sitting, taking a seat directly next to him. Looking the younger Winchester in the eye, you had to work up your nerve before making your next move.

“Kiss me, Sam.”

He didn’t waste a second; crashing his lips onto yours, he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap, allowing you to straddle him and begin to explore his body. Running your hands over his shoulders, your fingers barely graced the tips of his hair. Lacing your fingers into the soft brown locks, you gave a slight tug which provoked a guttural sound that erupted from deep within his chest, and something awakened within both of you. Tilting your head back, Sam attacked your throat with nips and delicate kisses while you worked on unbuttoning his flannel. Just as you reached the bottom of the shirt, Sam grinded his hips up into yours, earning a gasp from you. Taking his chance, Sam kissed you deeply once again, trailing his fingertips to the button of your jeans, popping them open. Pulling back, he gave you a sideways smirk before standing, wrapping your legs around his waist, and carrying you back to his room.

A night of nothing but moans, begs, and the sound of skin slapping skin later, you awoke with a groan. Rolling to your side, you quickly became very aware of the fact that you were  _ very  _ naked. Closing your eyes, you rubbed your temples and cursed yourself for drinking to the point that you did.  _ There isn’t enough Advil in the world to even put a dent in this hangover.  _ A sudden, dep snore made your eyes shoot open, and you began to wonder what kind of trouble you got yourself into last night. Shifting to your left, you peeked through the side of your eye to get an idea of who you ended up spending the night with.  _ Okay, long torso, broad shoulders, shaggy brown hair- oh god.  _

__ Flashbacks of the night you two shared began to infiltrate your mind; tracing your fingers over his anti-possession tattoo, fingertips digging into your hips as you were lifted off the bed, the feel of his hair in between your fingers as he did unspeakable things to you with his tongue. Shivers ran down your spine as you relived the previous nights events, while a familiar heat pooled between your thighs.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

Smiling to yourself, you glanced over to the wide eyed Winchester propped up next to you. “G’mornin, handsome.”

Taking his hand and trailing his fingertips up and down your arm, Sam cut straight to the chase that you were hoping to avoid for a little while longer, “Do you think we made a mistake?” A sudden intake of breath caused Sam’s eyes to meet yours, and for a split second you could see the guilt, disappointment, and fear hiding in the murky depths. Leading your hand towards his, now stagnant on your arm, you let out a sigh before answering.

“I think we did what we both needed to have happen.” Nodding in response, Sam sat forward and began to gather his clothes, still strung about from last night. As he stood, you took the time to admire the way his muscles contorted just under the skin; dragging your eyes down his back, you eyed red scratch marks at the base of his spine, a blush creeping up from the base of your neck, spilling into your cheeks. Pulling the sheets around your body, you followed Sam’s lead and began to search for the clothes that were scattered around the room. Letting out a huff when you were unable to find your bra, you decided to go to your room for an entirely new change of clothes. If this morning was any indication as to how things would be, then today was going to be unbearably awkward.

Heading down to the kitchen, the smell of waffles and bacon captivated your senses. Tip toeing into the doorway, you came across an array of food on the counter, Sam whistling while working with the food on the stove. Not wanting to interrupt, but also not wanting to get caught watching Sam, you moved up closer behind him, “something sure does smell good.” Looking over his shoulder and smiling at the compliment, he turned his attention back to the stove.

“Yeah, I figured neither of us has eaten a sincere meal since Dean…” Clearing his throat, he scraped the eggs that he was cooking before continuing, “yeah. Anyways, I thought it’d be nice to actually have something to eat.” Making his way to the table, he took a seat before glancing up at you and gesturing to the open chair next to him, “take a set.” Complying, you sat and took in the arrangement in front of you: fruit, eggs, waffles, bacon, the works. You should be starving by now, you really hadn’t consumed much other than alcohol within the last week; something was on your mind though, and because of the thoughts plaguing your mind, you were only able to nibble.

A few minutes after you started scrolling through your phone, distracting your mind from any more intrusive thoughts, Sam stood and began to clear the dishes. “Here, San, let me.” When he dismissed your offer, you placed your hand on his wrist and insisted, “really. You made breakfast, it’s the least I can do.” Taking the dishes and placing them in the sink, you glance over to Sam who is now leaning against the counter. Rinsing the pans that were used and placing them into the dishwasher, you glance back at Sam once again. “So, I know we both have been going through our emotions, but have you happened t talk to Jack lately?”

Thankful for something to talk about, Sam hopped up on the counter before answering, “Yeah. he’s handling it relatively well,” kicking his feet out in front of him, he continued, “better than we have been taking it, at least.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, Sam, I don’t want things to change between us,” looking at the younger Winchester, there was a twinge of hopefulness in his eyes. The context of said hopefulness, you were unaware of; but you considered it a step in the right direction. Calculating his movements, Sam slid himself off of the counter, sauntering up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, grazing your earlobe with the tip of his nose.

“What if I want things to change?”

 


End file.
